ONCE WE GET back to Twyla’s apartment, the air feels frenzied. There’s a sense of urgency while the sisters pack, but I can’t tell whether it’s because they’re excited for their separate getaways—I learned Astrid hadn’t left their apartment in over two months—or because of their fear over her ex’s proximity.
I sit at their mismatched dining table and call Roxanne, letting her know what’s going on. Apparently Twyla had told her about Brandon while she was interviewing for her job, so it came as no surprise. I’m kind of pissed Roxanne hadn’t told me, but I brush it off, realizing she would’ve had no reason or right to tell me about one of her employees’ personal life.
Doc hands me the keys to his beach house as the girls hug goodbye in the parking garage beneath their complex. I’ve never been to his place before, but I’ve seen pictures, and I’m actually looking forward to spending a few days there. I can’t even remember the last time I went on vacation. With my parents when I was a teenager, maybe? But what I’m mostly excited about is spending time with Twyla, having her all to myself without the pressure of her having to learn things for her job.
I know I wanted to wait a while, to cherish each and every one of our milestones, but we’re only human. We’ll be spending time together in a romantic setting, alone on a private beach in a bomb-ass house? Yeah, I don’t see myself being able to hold out on making her mine. And from what Astrid said in my office, it sounds like Twyla was even telling her sister she was ready. We’ve known each other for such a short amount of time, though I can’t help but feel like fate has something to do with bringing us together.
We wave Doc and Astrid off as they pull out of the parking spot next to Twyla’s car, where we toss our bags in her trunk, and I give her a small smile as she turns to face me when I see her nervous look. She must be feeling the same things I am, being left alone after such a whirlwind of a morning—anxiousness over what will happen, excitement over getting to know each other intimately.
She pulls keys out of her purse and holds them in her palm. “Before I hand you these… I know guys all think they are the best drivers and can do no wrong, but honestly, are you a safe driver? I get anxious with other people driving me, like full on panic attacks. As long as you promise not to drive like one of those douche nozzles who weave in and out of traffic, and don’t ride people’s asses, and don’t mess with your phone while you’re in the driver seat, then I will trust you and let you drive. Otherwise, tell me now, and I’ll be the one to take us, with you as the navigator.”
I hold my right hand up, glance around to make sure no one is nearby, and then give her a wicked grin as I place my left on one of her breasts, watching her eyes widen and her face flush. “I swear on this perfect titty that I will get us safely to the beach house. I will follow your rules of non-douche-nozzleness, and I’ll even let you hold my phone so you can use my GPS to be my super sexy navigator.”
She laughs, batting my hand away as she gives me the keys. “They’re not gone even a full minute, and we’ve already hit second base,” she murmurs, and I burst out laughing as she circles the car to get into the passenger seat.
“Not yet, doll,” I tell her, and her brow furrows. “Boob grabs are still first base.”
She shakes her head. “No way. First base is kissing. Second base is… fondling. Third is… private area stuff. And then going all the way is a home run.”
I back out of the parking spot and then exit the underground garage, pulling out on the street that will take us all the way to the east coast. “Negative, Ghost Rider. First base is kissing and fondling. Second base is touching below the belt. Third base is oral sex. And fucking is a home run.” I word it like that just to watch her squirm. She doesn’t disappoint.
“Oh,” is all she says.
I chuckle, pressing my thumb to the button on my phone to unlock it and then touch the GPS app. I quickly type in the address for Doc’s beach house and then hand her my cell. “There you go, navigator. As sworn on your booby.”
THE NEXT TWO and a half hours go by fast. We take turns showing each other our favorite music, and I feel my insides warm at his approval when he discovers I love rock more than anything. I love the look of surprise on his face when I sing all the lyrics to my favorite Sevendust, Killswitch Engage, and Avenged Sevenfold songs, and the laughter he lets out when I even nail the screamo parts when we listen to Disturbed’s “Down with the Sickness.”
As the song ends, he lowers the volume on my radio. “You just gained back like 75 percent of the points you lost for not getting any of my movie references. You’re officially my dream girl,” he tells me, and I grin.
“It’s the only music that would help keep me awake while I was trying to study in college, and then when I would work long hours in my lab. I discovered the System of a Down station on my Internet radio app, and it was all over. That’s all that’s on my playlists now,” I explain.
“Yep, I’m having your babies.” He nods, giving me a wink.
I burst out laughing, only stopping when his phone vibrates, the next direction popping up on the screen. “Take the next exit, and his house should be on the right up the street.”
Soon, we pull onto a narrow road with colorful beach houses lining the way. They get fancier and bigger the farther we travel until finally his phone buzzes, flashing that we’ve arrived at our destination. When I look up at the monstrosity we pull up in front of, my mouth hangs open as I take in the beauty of the huge, white, circular home perched atop massive cylindrical stilts, and as I open up my door, I hear the ocean loud and clear directly behind it.
“Holy fuck,” Seth says, coming around the hood of the car to stand and gape at the structure in front of us. “Doc is freaking Iron Man!”
I turn my head to look up at him questioningly.
He gestures at the beach house. “It’s… it’s fucking Tony Stark’s house. Iron Man. Come on. Red and gold armor, glowy light in the middle of his chest that keeps shrapnel from making it into his heart and also powers the suit? Shoots shit out of his palms and flies around?”
I put on a fake look of recognition. “Ohhh! That Iron Man!” When he looks at me surprised, I lift a brow and purse my lips. “No clue who you’re talking about.”
Suddenly, his arm is around the back of my neck as he yanks me to him, making me squeak as he presses his forehead to mine. “You better be glad you’re so fucking cute, or I’d turn your ass as red as Iron Man’s armor for that,” he growls, his eyes flashing with naughtiness.
I don’t know if it’s that look or the image he just put into my head, but I melt against him as my panties grow damp. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to have another movie marathon so I’ll know exactly which shade my butt’s going to match,” I whisper, stunned at the words that came out of me so easily.
His eyebrows rise, making his gorgeous hazel irises sparkle in the bright sunlight. “No take-backsies. I have a digital copy if Doc doesn’t have a hard copy here. It’s so happening. Iron Man, and then Deadpool upon your sister’s request. Fuck it. We’ll just do a whole Marvel marathon. Iron Man, Thor, Captain America, The Incredible Hulk, The Avengers. You’ve asked for it, woman. Now you’re gonna get it,” he taunts, spinning my body to slap me on the ass once before he goes to grab our bags out of the trunk.
My hand shoots to rub my right butt cheek, where the sting is still reverberating straight to my pussy, my mouth hanging open as I gawk at him.
He looks up at me as he closes the trunk and grins his wicked smile. “Now that’s the spirit. The perfect width for my—”
“Seth!” I hiss, and then start giggling as two joggers make their way between us on the sidewalk.
As he walks up to me, he takes my hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss my knuckles before leading me up the walkway. “And when we’re done watching Avengers 2, we’ll have a serious discussion on what it would be like for Black Widow to bang Dr. Banner in his Hulk form. I think she’d take it like a champ, but Corbin thinks even Natasha would wimp out,” he states sincerely.
I just shake my head. “The Hulk… that’s the green guy, right?”
He abruptly stops and puts his hands to his chest, putting on a southern belle voice. “Well, I do declare! Twyla actually knows one of the most recognizable comic book characters ever created! The great Stan Lee could die happy in this moment.”
I roll my eyes and smack him on his rock-hard pec, making him laugh as he starts walking again, and I follow him up the front steps to the spacious porch that seems to wrap around the perimeter of the house. He unlocks the front door, and as we step inside, we both breathe out a “Whoa!”
If one were to imagine a state of the art, magazine-worthy beach house interior, it wouldn’t even compare to what we’re looking at right now. As we take a tour of the four-bedroom three-bathroom home, I’m already trying to think up a reason why Doc should let Astrid and me move in. And when we step inside the theater room, with its four rows of leather couches, popcorn machine, fully stocked mini fridge, and an entire wall of every movie ever made, I’m pretty sure Seth is too.
“I think… I just came… in my pants,” he says, and my eyes unconsciously move to the zipper of his jeans. “Made ya look, dirty girl. Now, let’s get our bathing suits on. I haven’t been swimming in half a decade.”